


3 Times Arthur couldn’t ask for a hug (and 1 time he could)

by huxley



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 5 Things, Angst, Apologies, Comfort, Community: inception_kink, Cuddling and Snuggling, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huxley/pseuds/huxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch-starved Arthur really likes hugs but doesn't know how to ask for them without sounding like a child. Luckily, Eames is observant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 Times Arthur couldn’t ask for a hug (and 1 time he could)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19632.html?thread=46764208#t46764208) at inception_kink.

1.

When Eames returned home, he didn’t hear Arthur’s voice call out to him in his usual greeting. A quick search of the flat found him sprawled on the sofa looking wretched. He had managed to kick off one shoe and dump his jacket on the floor, but his tie remained half undone and his shirt was rumpled.

“Could you turn that damn light off?” Arthur asked, his voice hoarse. “I haven’t been able to drag myself up to do it”. He had an arm thrown over his eyes and even from the doorway Eames could see the heated flush on his cheeks.

Eames flicked the switch, throwing the room into semi-darkness, a pool of light from a table lamp illuminating the tense angles of Arthur’s body. Eames sat on the edge of the sofa and gently pulled Arthur’s arm away from his face, frowning in concern.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, laying the back of his hand across Arthur’s forehead. “Christ, you’re burning up”.

“I don’t know, but I feel like hell. Everything fucking aches”. He closed his eyes and knotted his eyebrows in pain.

Eames fetched him a glass of water and painkillers. He pulled off Arthur’s shoe while he swallowed the pills down with a grimace. Eames left him battling with his tie and ran a cloth under cold water to press against Arthur’s forehead. Arthur sighed in relief.

“I’m sure it’s just the flu darling, you’re not dying,” Eames told him. “It’d take more than this to do you in”. He pushed the damp, curling hair away from Arthur’s temples and undid the top buttons of his shirt.

“Your faith in me never wavers, does it?”

“Not for a second”. He smoothed a hand over Arthur’s forearm. It was unusual to have Arthur laid out so defenceless in front of him. Eames couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of taking care of him.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Arthur shook his head against the pillows and Eames watched him for a moment. Sure enough, Arthur’s shoulders rolled upwards, his neck arched and Eames bit back a laugh. He placed the cloth on the table, slid his arms under Arthur’s warm body and hugged him to his chest. Arthur let out a shaky breath and curled his arms around Eames’ shoulders, hiding his face in his neck. Eames felt him smile.

2.

Arthur let the bar door slam shut behind him and bowed his head against the rain. He had only walked a few yards before realising he had forgotten his coat. He swore under his breath but didn’t turn back.

“ARTHUR!”

He heard Eames’ heavy footsteps jogging after him but he didn’t slow his pace. He had reached the glow of a street lamp before Eames caught up to him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Arthur, why the bloody hell did you storm off? And you’re getting soaked”. He held Arthur’s coat out to him but Arthur ignored it. The mildly irritated, confused expression on Eames’ face only angered him more.

“I _stormed off_ because I’m sick of your shit! I’m sick of watching you flirt with anyone who wonders into your line of sight and I’m sick of having to stand there and listen to it!” He turned his back again, only for Eames to laugh and grab his hand.

“Oh, come off it! Put your damn coat on and stop sulking“.

“How do you think that makes me feel, Eames?” Arthur shouted, wrenching his hand away. The rain hammered down on him and he shuddered in the cold. “If _that's_ what you’re like when I’m actually around, what the hell must you be like when I’m _not_?”

The smile left Eames’ face. He stared at him for a moment, blinking rainwater from his eyes.

“You think I’d fuck around behind your back, Arthur? Is that it?”

“What the hell am I supposed to think? And the fact that you treat it like a joke...”

Arthur turned away again but Eames’ arm appeared around his waist, pinning him against his chest. He struggled and growled but Eames held firm.

“Nothing about you is a joke, darling, I know that," Eames said, his voice calm and deep in Arthur’s ear. “I just can’t help myself sometimes, that’s all. But I can’t have you running out on me”.

“Well luckily this'll be the first and last time you’ll experience it. Let me go, Eames”. He struggled again, his fingers tight around Eames’ wrist but Eames barely staggered.

“You don’t mean that," he said as he rubbed his stubbled cheek against Arthur’s jaw. “You’re just pissed at me and I’m sorry. But I need you here to tell me when I’m being an ass.”

He turned Arthur to face him, gripping him tightly by the arms.

Arthur clenched his fists and stared over Eames’ shoulder into the dark street.

“I hate that you can make me feel fucking invisible”.

“I only see you, Arthur," said Eames as he stared intently into his face. “I promise not to let you forget that again”.

Arthur’s fists unclenched and he closed his eyes, the rain plastering his hair across his forehead. He gripped Eames by his sodden shirt and tugged him forward.

“Yeah?” Eames murmured. Arthur nodded, his body arching into him.

Eames gathered him in his arms and Arthur clutched at his shoulders, melting into his warmth. Eames pressed his lips against his neck, his hand rubbing the tension from between Arthur’s shoulder blades.

“Better now, love?”

Arthur nodded against Eames’ shoulder, tilting his face to meet Eames’ mouth.

3.

Arthur cupped his hands and splashed the cool water on his face. He took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror. His bloodshot eyes and chaotic hair were an unusual sight to him.

Eames appeared behind him with his arms folded, looking as tired as Arthur felt.

“Arthur, you need to calm down and get some sleep. Look at yourself, love. You’re shaking”.

Arthur stared down at his hands on the counter top. His fingers trembled against the marble and he curled them into fists.

“How the hell can I calm down when all of this is my fault?”

“This not your fault – “

“I can’t believe I fucked up so badly – “

“You didn’t fuck up! You had no way of knowing how that guy was going to react to the job, no one could have predicted that. Not even you.” He came up behind Arthur and ran a firm hand down the slope of his back. Arthur shuddered from it for a moment before dropping to his elbows, his face in his hands.

“I think I need a drink”.

“I’m on it”. Eames disappeared into the adjoining hotel bedroom and Arthur listened for the clink of bottle against glass before following him.

The television was on, sending long, flickering shadows up the walls. The screams of the city poured in through the open window and the chill breeze felt good on Arthur’s face. He took the tumbler from Eames and downed the whiskey in a gulp, grimacing. He stood staring at a late night infomercial on the television, rolling the cool glass against his forehead.

“I should be out there doing something," he insisted yet again, “instead of hiding out in here, going out of my damn mind”.

Eames sat down heavily on the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You heard Cobb. The best thing we can do is stay here until we’re told otherwise”.

“Eames, if anything happens to those kids – “

“It won’t. Cobb will get them back.”

“I had to have missed something in that guy’s background, people don’t just flip out like that for no reason“.

“Arthur, he had no history of mental illness or violence and no criminal record. How could we have possibly known we were dealing with a potential kidnapper?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He knew Eames was right, but the faces of James and Phillipa had been swimming in and out of his vision all night, making him sick to his stomach.

“Come and lie down. You’ll be in no fit state to help anyone if we get a call”. Eames’ voice was rough from lack of sleep but Arthur hardened himself against it. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the desk, clattering it against the glass as he poured himself another measure. The amber liquid spilled over the edge, splattering across the files and papers that littered the desk.

“Fuck!” he snarled, sending the lot of them to the floor with a sweep of his hand. He dug the heels of his hands into his burning eye sockets.

“Eames – “ he began, a frustrated groan escaping his mouth, hearing the bedsprings squeak. Eames was already on his feet.

“Way ahead of you, darling". Eames took him by the wrist, tugged him to the bed and pulled him onto his lap.

Eames' arms wrapped around him, strong and firm. Arthur’s head suddenly felt like lead. He let it drop onto Eames’ shoulder, slid a hand into his hair and inhaled the dulled scent of Eames’ day old cologne. He felt himself relax into the touch of Eames’ broad hand smoothing over his thigh. A moment later and his eyelids had fallen closed.

4.

Eames shuddered against Arthur’s back, his arms shaking and fingers curling against the mattress.

“ _Fuck_ , Arthur,” he groaned, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s damp nape. He carefully pulled out and lowered Arthur’s hips to the bed, before dropping heavily onto his back beside him. Arthur’s face was still pressed into the pillow, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Eames laughed a little and raked a hand through Arthur’s dark hair, mussing it up even further.

“You alright, darling? I didn’t kill you, did I?”

Arthur shook his head, his hands still clenched in the sheets.

“Just can’t move for a minute," came the muffled reply.

Eames let his gaze slide over the long line of Arthur’s back, the glow from an outside street lamp casting shadows along the dips and curves of his muscles. His damp, pale skin appeared to glow. Eames bit his lip and ran his knuckles along Arthur’s forearm. If he didn’t look so exhausted he would talk him into another round. In fact...

“I’ll just get you a drink of water, hmm?” He pushed himself up, only to hear Arthur groan. He threw an arm out to curl around Eames’ chest.

“No, don’t go," he breathed.

Eames settled back down and lifted Arthur’s hand from his chest. He kissed along his palm as Arthur mumbled into the pillow again.

“What was that?” Eames asked.

Arthur lifted his head. “I said I wanted a – a hug”. If possible, Eames thought his flushed cheeks burned even brighter.

Eames grinned.

“Did you just ask for a hug, Arthur?”

Arthur avoided his gaze and nodded. Eames watched his cheek dimple as he smiled.

Eames tutted and pulled Arthur to him by his waist. He was pliant and warm and Eames settled him against his chest, arms easily encasing the expanse of his body.

“You know all you have to do is ask, darling," he murmured, arching as Arthur kissed the base of his throat.


End file.
